Not of Time
by Fire Bear1
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is walking home late one night in London and, when he discovers a strange, green glow in the alley he is using as a shortcut, is suddenly transported to a new world. But is it a new world or is he still in London? And why does the American man who takes him in insist on calling him a Victorian?
1. Tea Time

_**Right, so. This was inspired by a sentence I wrote in a one-shot. And it morphed into this.**_

_**This first chapter is called Tea Time. (Speaking of which... I really want tea but dinner's gonna be soon so having tea just now would be weird...)**_

* * *

Darting through the dimly lit streets, Arthur held his cane above the cobbles. It would not do to attract attention with the noise of it striking the hard ground, even if this _was_ the more upmarket part of the town. His boots, however, made constant noises as he hurried along. He had not meant to be so late but the dinner had dragged on and, afterwards, in the smoking room, the conversation had held him back.

Pausing under a lamp, Arthur pulled out his pocket watch and clicked it open. It was nearing midnight. He really hoped the housekeeper had put Peter to bed. The boy may have been upbeat and mischievous most of the time but he was still ill and needed his rest. Arthur bit his lip and hurried off again as he slipped the watch back into his coat pocket. His cloak fluttered behind him and he nervously glanced around. After all, London may have been much more advanced than anywhere else but he remembered the fear of the Ripper and he had no desire to die needlessly.

As he passed by Trafalgar Square, he glanced at the Column, rising up above him. He still didn't exactly understand why they had decided to put Imperial Measures in the Square. Surely everyone knew how long a pole was? With a sigh, he hurried past the large lions.

A horse and cart trundled by, the man tipping his hat to the gentleman in the street. Arthur touched his top hat in reply, wishing that he had taken his own transport instead of firmly deciding on travelling by foot. Walking the distance he had already was tiring, especially since it was so late. Perhaps there was a shortcut?

Seeing a small alleyway, Arthur realised that, if it joined to the parallel street, it would make his journey quicker. With only some amount of trepidation, he stepped into it, hoping he wouldn't be accosted by any prostitutes. A gentleman of his standing could not be seen doing something like that in the middle of the street. If he wanted something like that, he would go to one of the appropriate houses in secret.

Hurrying along, he had just decided that he would have some of Grey's tea, when a strange light caught his eye. A green glow was directly ahead of him, encompassing the width of the passage. He halted and stared it it. What was this? Were there people down here with lanterns? What were they doing?

Cautiously, Arthur stepped forward. "Good evening?" he called, listening for a response or the tell-tale sounds of someone in the darkness. "Is there anyone there?" he tried again. No sound. He tried rubbing his eyes – perhaps it was an optical illusion. It was still there, though, when he opened his eyes again. Maybe he was just too tired. Peter _had_ been keeping him awake, what with his coughing through the night.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur walked forward, regardless of the unknown, straight into the green glow – he was sure it was harmless. Almost immediately, however, he felt as though he had been turned upside down, as if he was falling forwards and backwards at the same time. All he could see was green. His grip tightened on his cane as he held his breath.

Then everything went black.

* * *

Noise crashed into Arthur's consciousness and he frowned, screwing his eyes shut tighter. Voices, people walking, the roar of some sort of machine. Arthur tried to remember what had happened. He had been walking home and then...

With a gasp, Arthur sat upright and looked around, eyes wide. Where the hell was he? From what he could see, it was daytime and he was still in the alley, though there seemed to be something off about it. There was no sign of the green glow, fortunately. He could smell urine and he scrunched his nose up in disgust. Glancing around, he found his hat and cane which he grabbed as he scrambled to his feet. Dusting himself off, he wandered back to the street. Perhaps he could get someone to take him home. He did have plenty of money, after all.

However, what he saw when he got out of the alley made him stop dead.

Crowds of people hurried to and fro. Some seemed to be wearing clothes similar to him but he could see no waistcoats and they certainly had no hats. Others were wearing rather odd-looking clothes: they had blue material for trousers and shirts with no buttons and no sleeves. The girls wore trousers as well or skirts so short Arthur had to look away. He could hear various foreign languages mixed with the English conversations.

The street had no cobblestones – instead it was smooth with raised parts at either side. Everyone walked on these higher parts unless they were crossing over. Arthur normally wouldn't have been able to fathom the reason for this but he had seen what the roaring sound was.

Several _things_ were racing by on the part of the street which was lower. Bulky black things or large behemoths, slowly winding their way past each other. He spotted large, red things with numbers and destinations. Others had the word "Taxi" put on a light and attached to the roof. A myriad of colours passed by, dancing around each other to a tune Arthur did not understand. And people dodged through gaps, unafraid.

He had heard about automobiles but _this_... Nothing could have prepared him for _this_.

Arthur wondered what had happened and where he was. Staring at the buildings beyond, he was sure that he was on The Mall. However he thought that perhaps he had travelled to a new world, a world which looked frighteningly similar to London. Chewing on his lip, Arthur decided that the best way to discover if he was still in his home town was to go to Trafalgar Square. It was close by and, surely, if Nelson's Column and the lions and the Imperial Measures were still there, he was in London, albeit with a lot of difference. Besides, if something had changed, he doubted he would be welcome at his own home. And he wouldn't be able to see the differences from outside. He was rather fearful of entering his own home, in all honestly. Would Peter still be there? No, better that he went to Trafalgar Square first and figure out what had happened.

Taking a breath, he strode out of the alleyway, cane swinging, cape fluttering. He felt rather out of place – after all, he was in evening wear. This was hardly suitable attire for a daytime stroll. Neither did it seem to be normal for these people. Everyone was gazing at him, either with interest or in a mocking manner. Quite simply, he stood out and he hoped that no-one would become violent.

When he reached the Square, he immediately knew he had made the wrong decision to calm his fears. Although everything was in its place (apart from those Measures which seemed to have been moved), there were a few buildings which seemed to be for commerce. This had, perhaps, attracted more people than on the Mall and he stared as people darted around him or simply jostled past him. Everything was chaotic and loud and Arthur started to feel quite ill, his head swimming.

What was going on? What had happened? Or where was he? And what was he supposed to do?

At that moment, someone bumped into him with such force that he found himself taking several steps back to stay on his feet. His hat slipped and he pushed it back up with a huff of breath. Glaring at the man, he surveyed his sloppy attire, the odd shirt almost hanging from a shoulder, some sort of bag on his shoulder. His blonde hair was neat except for a single strand which stuck up proudly, like a bug's antenna. Blue eyes shone through his spectacles and his eyebrows were scrunched as he grimaced at Arthur, looking apologetic.

"God, sorry," he said, Arthur recognising an American accent. "I wasn't looking where I was going!" Then the American swept his eyes over Arthur, taking in his appearance. Arthur scowled at him. "Nice get-up! Is something going on?"

Detesting the way he spoke, Arthur practically growled out his answer as he kept wary eyes on the crowd streaming around them. "Nothing is 'going on', as you put it. Leave me alone." For who would believe his story – it hardly seemed plausible to Arthur and he was the one it was happening to.

"Hey, you okay?" asked the man, frowning in concern. "You seem kinda out of it."

"Look, just-" began Arthur, only to be interrupted.

"Do you need me to help you to somewhere?"

"No, there is absolutely nothing you can do for me. Good day, sir." With that, Arthur stepped around him and walked to the edge of the raised part of the street. There he paused and wondered how to get across to the Square so he could sit and think. People seemed to know when to stop and go. Was it because of those lights which looked like people? Arthur bit his lip and decided to just chance his luck.

But, as he stepped out, the automobiles began to move. He gasped, staring at a red giant which came trundling straight for him. Suddenly, though, something wrapped around his waist and pulled him backwards. He cried out as he stumbled into someone behind him, his legs losing the will to stand.

"Hey!" cried a familiar voice behind him. "Are you okay?"

"L-Let go!" cried Arthur, weakly, his fight leaving him from the fright.

"Right, I'm taking you home. Where do you live?" The arm around him moved and two hands grasped him to pull him upright. Then he was spun round so that he could stare through the anxious expression on the man's face.

"I... I don't think I live anywhere," said the dazed gentleman, his hands gripping his cane tighter.

Once again, eyes raked over him. Then the American ran a hand through his hair. "Come on," he murmured, taking hold of Arthur's arm and leading him away.

* * *

"Alfred," said the man once he had sat Arthur down on a shabby sofa. "Jones," he added.

"What?" asked Arthur, staring at something across from him. It was a rectangular shape and had a black rim. However, the middle seemed to shine and reflected the light. A small, red light seemed to shine from the bottom corner of it.

"My name," Alfred verified. "And yours is?"

Flickering his eyes over to the American, Arthur studied him. It was probably best that he did introduce himself. After all, it was something he should do as a gentleman. And he might need this man's help, as loathe as he was to admit it. So he stood up and offered his hand. Alfred took it and they shook, Arthur speaking as they did so. "Arthur Kirkland, Esquire."

"Isn't 'esquire' something fancy?" asked Alfred, frowning slightly as Arthur sat back down.

"Yes, of course it is. Where on Earth do you-? Ah, yes. America." Arthur sniffed in disdain.

Alfred turned towards him more, frowning deeper. "Hey! We're not _that_ bad. And a lot of your traditions started in America, anyways."

Scowling, Arthur glared at the black rectangle. "I do not want to get into a discussion on that sort of topic." Glancing back at Alfred, he found his blue, confused eyes. "Something more helpful would be better. For instance, where am I?"

"London."

Narrowing his eyes, Arthur shook his head. "This is not the London I know. Where are the cobbles and carts? And... and what was that _thing_ that nearly hit me. I have heard about automobiles but I have never seen so many in one city."

A bark of laughter answered his question. "Are you really gonna keep up that act?"

Fuming, Arthur snapped back at him. "It is not an act! I was merely on my way home to Kensington-"

"Ah, so you _do_ have a ho- Wait, Kensington? The super rich place?"

"Well, yes. Where else do you expect a person of my standing to live?"

"But you said you don't have a place to call home? I'm kinda confused now. Who exactly _are_ you?"

Drawing himself to his full height whilst sitting, Arthur puffed his chest out, a proud expression on his face. "I am Arthur Kirkland, Esquire., born on the 23rd of April, 1867, in London. I was made an Esquire in 1889. Last year, in fact."

Alfred looked like he didn't know whether to believe him or not, those eyes of his staring into Arthur's. Finally, he moved away and disappeared from the room. Had Arthur scared him off by his declaration? Had he not believed him? But then he returned with a slim rectangle, made from something like the rim of the Black Rectangular Thing. The thing, whatever it was, separated and, when Arthur looked over, he could see what appeared to be the flattened keys of a typewriter, though there were extra buttons. He marvelled at whatever it was – how could it fit typewriter keys in that small space?

Then, suddenly, the noise of a machine started and something appeared on the reflective surface of the upper bit. A strangled cry left him and he jerked backwards, staring in horror at the thing. What had just happened? What was happening? Fearfully, he looked up at Alfred who was staring back with wide eyes. Slowly, the American's face morphed into an expression of amusement and he was soon grinning at the gentleman.

"Did I scare ya?" he asked, gleefully.

"Be silent!" snapped Arthur, folding his arms and looking away.

"Don't be scared. It's just a laptop."

"What is a 'laptop'?" Arthur asked angrily, trying not to sound too curious.

Once again, Alfred frowned at him. "Well, it's... It's a computer which can sit on our lap and runs from a battery."

"'Computer'? Someone who calculates things?"

"Er, well, no. I suppose it does make calculations of a sort... I think."

"You think? You use it yet don't understand how it works?"

Alfred chuckled. "You don't need to understand how it works to use it."

"Hm," said Arthur, disapprovingly, frowning at the ignorant American.

Shrugging, Alfred began to type, his fingers flying over the keys. Arthur watched in awe. He still had trouble typing quickly with his typewriter. Perhaps this was because he did not use it often whilst Alfred clearly did. He poked at a square below the keys a few times, pausing to type and hit a rather large button which said 'Enter'. After a few clicks, taps, pokes and typing during which Alfred frowned a little more the longer it took for whatever he was waiting for to happen, he sighed and turned to Arthur.

"I can't find you in these family genealogy sites but how useful are they, eh?"

"'Sites'?" Arthur asked. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

Alfred bit his lip for a moment. "Okay, let's say for the moment that I believe your story about being a Victorian. How-?"

Arthur shook his head. "I didn't say anything about being a 'Victorian', whatever that is."

Sighing, Alfred rolled his eyes. "Lemme try that again: let's say for the moment that I believe you come from, what, 1890? Right, well, assuming that, how the hell did you end up in 2013?"

The silence stretched out between them. Arthur stared at Alfred's confused expression as he tried to process what he had just been told. 2013? That was over a hundred years after his time. No wonder everything was strange and terrifying.

When Arthur found his voice, he managed to gasp out an explanation. "Um... There was a green glow. And, well, I... walked through it. Perhaps that was rather foolish but, at the time, I saw no harm in it. I was delayed as it was."

"For a very important date?"

Raising an eyebrow, Arthur just looked at him incredulously. "No. I was late to return _home_."

"Really? You couldn't wait a little?"

"No," Arthur repeated, not bothering to explain why exactly he had been in such a hurry.

"Well, weird glowing thing did... what exactly?"

"I don't know. I think I fell over. And then I woke up in the same alley, just... now."

Alfred ran a hand through his hair, apparently thinking quickly, his eyes darting to Arthur occasionally. "Okay then. If you've got nowhere to go, you can stay here, for the moment."

Shocked, Arthur's mouth fell open. Remembering himself, he said, "Thank you."

* * *

_**This was way more complicated than I thought it would be to write. I had to look up what people wore, etc. in Victorian times and what was invented when, etc. Such a pain. But I didn't use Wikipedia, so, accomplishment!  
**_

_**I decided on a place Arthur wasn't come from by using Google Maps. However, I'm not sure if it existed or not but it wasn't brought up so I won't go on about it too much. In fact, I won't ever say anything about it ever again.**_

_**I know that Arthur most likely wouldn't find a dingy alley to walk into along the Mall or Pall Mall (where he was walking). But I decided it would happen in an alleyway so I took some creative licence. I am not sure whether the Mall would be as busy as I described it but I reckoned it might be quite busy since it's near the river and Buckingham Palace (I think - I'm sure I saw the Palace marked at one point but, then, when I was looking for something else close by, it disappeared. I got kinda confused and then just made assumptions. Sorry. :/)**_

_**By 1890, cars had been invented but they hadn't really become widespread. (At least, that's what I think the site said.) But, whether or not there would have been, they probably looked entirely different from all the fancy cars nowadays. Now I sound old. Splendid.**_

_**Trafalgar Square has been refurbished/transformed/whatever they're calling it since the Victorian times. I think there's a central staircase and there was mentions of a café (though, no matter how much I searched, I kinda got back to the same site/page which didn't seem to say much on the subject of the café and I gave up and just didn't mention it). They moved the Imperial Measures from the north wall to alongside the staircase. Apparently.**_

_**A pole is the same length as a perch, according to a picture of the Imperial Measures. Not entirely sure how long it was in today's terms, though...**_

_**Black Rectangular Thing is most likely a semi-expensive widescreen TV. It's gonna be fun when Arthur finds out what it does. Heck, he could just stay in the flat they're in and play about with everything there that he's never seen before.**_

_**The typewriter was invented in, like, the first half of the 1800s. By several different people perfecting it. So, basically, Arthur knows what it is. (Which surprised me, I have to say.)**_

_**Batteries can be found since the Stone Age. The modern battery was actually developed during the 1800s as well by several different people using different materials. 'Course, Arthur probably wouldn't recognise the one in the laptop but, hey ho, he's not seen it yet. (I was surprised that they had batteries in the 1800s, too. The more you know.)**_

_**Victorians did not call themselves Victorians. **_

_**The reason this is set in 2013 is cause I wanted them to be the same age. (For no real reason, just easier for me not to have to work with differences and the evil that is numbers...) I decided on 1890 being the time Arthur was lifted from, which meant he was born in 1867 (if my Maths held out. O.o). I also wanted Alfred to be born in 1990 so that he's born a hundred years after Artie was taken from his own time. However, I also wanted him to be just starting back at his university in London (which I'm sure will be discussed in much more detail later) which would be September. And that would make him already 24 in 2014. So I went with 2013 for when this is taking place.**_

_**I thought this would be longer. Maybe I should've described Alfred's flat but, I suppose, Arthur's still a bit dazed about everything. So the other chapters will probably be longer than this. I have certain things I want Arthur to find out about and for Alfred to confusedly have to describe and explain. Yippee for me.**_

_**Any other questions, you should probably Google it and correct me, heh. ^^" Or you can ask me and I'll Google it myself, heh heh. ^^"**_

_**But if you want to ask me something about the story, let me know. :)**_


	2. Dinner Time

**_This is such a pain to write. Mainly cause I need to research as I write. As in, write something, have to have Artie react, look up relevant information to see what he knows and what he doesn't. It takes _forever!  
**

_**Anyways, there are two sets of notes at the end of this. Story related notes and historical notes. The historical notes are gonna be long...**_

* * *

"Do you..." said Alfred, hesitantly, pausing as Arthur flicked his gaze up at him. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Oh, yes," sighed Arthur in relief. "If you would be so kind, may I have some tea?"

"Tea?" asked Alfred, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Yes," said Arthur, dismissively, as if he was talking to his housekeeper. Then, remembering exactly who he was talking to and when, he fixed Alfred with a wide-eyed stare. "You... You do still _have_ tea now, yes?"

After a brief pause, Alfred's laugh boomed out of his mouth. "Dude, calm down. Tea exists, I just don't generally have any lying around. Lemme see if one of my friends have left any behind on one of their visits." With that, he hurried from the room, presumably going to the kitchen.

With his host gone, Arthur decided to examine the room. He was sitting on a faded blue couch, a small table in front of him, a grey armchair off to the side. Upon the chair, a cushion was sitting at an angle. Arthur frowned: the design looked like the American flag except the stars were arranged differently. On a whim, he counted them and discovered that, not only were they arranged differently, there were six additional stars. He shifted uncomfortably. So America was even bigger than when he had last noticed? It didn't feel right.

Quickly, he dragged his eyes away and surveyed the drab walls, a few posters pinned up. They appeared to be childish caricatures of men dressed in strange get-ups, some with rather long capes. Some appeared to be flying. He frowned at them, confused as to why Alfred would decide to stick up things from newspapers in his home.

Noting the bookcases lining the wall beside the Black Rectangular Thing, he stood and wandered over to see what sorts of books this Alfred read. His eyes scanned the titles but recognised none of them. Frowning, he pulled out a random one entitled Call of Duty: Ghosts, wondering what ghosts could have to do with what he presumed was the army.

It wasn't a book. There didn't appear to be pages and the outer cover was made of some strange hard material. Flipping it over, he read the blurb and glanced at the pictures. He frowned at the captions which said things like 'co-op' and 'better resolution'. Deciding to take a peek inside, he pulled it open – with a little difficulty – to find a round, thin thing inside. It had the title on it and the picture from the front. There was a hole in the middle of it with a little button. Curious, Arthur pushed it – and the thing popped out. He fumbled for it and managed to catch it before it fell to the floor. However, it had turned around and he saw that it was silver on the reverse side.

Hearing Alfred returning, Arthur quickly returned the discus-like thing into its place and shoved the strange item back onto the shelf. With that, he hurried to his place and dropped onto the sofa just as Alfred passed through the open door.

"Hey, Artie-"

"Arthur!" snapped the gentleman, annoyed that Alfred couldn't seem to get his name right.

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Arthur. D'you like green tea?"

"Well, I much prefer Twinings' Breakfast or Oolong but I am not adverse to drinking Green tea," replied Arthur.

"Cool." Alfred paused before he left, shifting his weight a little nervously. Arthur frowned for a moment before raising an eyebrow, wordlessly asking him what was wrong. "Er... You're not one of those snobs who won't drink tea from a teabag, are ya? 'Cause I am totally crap at making-"

"Teabag?" asked Arthur, very confused. What on Earth was a teabag?

"Oh," Alfred blinked, looking slightly puzzled himself. Then he shrugged. "Nothing. Never mind."

Arthur's eyebrows were drawn down over his eyes as he watched the man saunter away. What the devil had that been about? Shaking his head, he turned back to the room and continued his examination.

Along the wall adjoining the door was an old, beat-up radiator. He had had similar ones installed when he had bought the house he and Peter lived in. Peter had adored it: the newfangled contraption made it so much easier for them to survive and relieved both of them. Arthur was even more thankful for it when Peter had gotten ill.

Wondering if it was working, he made his way over and cautiously touched it. The metal was cold beneath his skin and he shivered slightly. He wondered what time of the year it was, whether it was winter, whether it was nearing Christmas...

Brushing aside those thoughts, he went over to examine the odd rectangular thing that seemed to be pride of place in the room. The shiny surface at the front didn't appear to open and, when he carefully leaned over to look behind it, there was no way to do so there. Instead he found several cables running between it, some things in the alcove below and a white thing. At the unknown thing, the cables were connected to square parts which were connected to the odd thing. A cable ran from that to the wall where it was attached to a matching white square. Beside it, a small switch adorned with a red lick of paint resided, obviously in the 'on' position.

Frowning, Arthur straightened up, thinking. Was this to do with electricity? He barely understood it. However, he did know that it was used to power the new filament lamps in his house. Perhaps it had been developed to be used for other things? But, then, what was this thing?

As he ran his hands over the edge, his fingers found something protruding. A button. Curious, he pressed it, braced for it to move or something else outlandish. He was disappointed, however, when nothing happened. After deciding that he might as well just sit back down, he stood back – and was assaulted by noise and colour.

With a cry, he jumped a step backwards only to feel something hit the back of his legs. Gasping in surprise, he toppled over the table, landing awkwardly, his back hitting the couch rather painfully. Before he could right himself and find out what had happened, Alfred appeared in the doorway.

"What? What is it?" he cried, surprised.

"I-" was all Arthur managed as he tried to work out where his legs and arms should be. A hand grabbed his upper arm firmly and pulled him onto the couch so that he was sitting once again, facing the black box. Upon the face of it, images were moving and he could hear people talking. His eyes widened and he leaned forward. "Wha-? Is that-? Are those _people_? Are they- But how- What is this?!"

"It's, er," began Alfred but stopped. Arthur didn't know why as he continued to stare at the thing which was depicting a few people talking, sitting on chairs. Suddenly, the view point changed and Arthur twitched in surprise and fear. It showed that the seats were on top of a stage, an audience watching them. "Hang on – I'm gonna get you your tea." With that, Alfred left but Arthur was only vaguely aware of him now. Straining to hear, Arthur began to catch the words being spoken.

"I 'aven't taken any money off 'er," said the man sitting on the seat. He was wearing a suit and seemed to have made an effort with his appearance. However, Arthur could tell he came from up north, perhaps somewhere in the Yorkshire area.

Another man, this one sitting on the floor interrupted. "Did you or did you not tell my team, 'I take money off her; that's why I married her'? That's what you said."

"Yes," replied the man with a nod, his eyes flickering towards Arthur. Jolting in surprise, Arthur stared back. However, the man looked away as he continued. "In the first bit-"

"Arthur," said another voice, closer to him and the poor man jumped again in shock. "Here." Alfred handed him a mug. "I hope it's okay for you. I'm a coffee man, myself." He lifted his own mug a little before he sat beside Arthur and sipped at it.

Looking into his own, Arthur stared at the yellow liquid within. He could see no leaves through the almost clean water so these teabag inventions must be a good thing. Hesitantly, he brought the cup to his lips and took a sip, ignoring the strange device for a moment. Although it was rather weak, in his opinion, Arthur felt relaxed almost instantly. His panic lessened and he opened the eyes he had closed while drinking the tea.

"What _is_ that?" he asked, much more calmly. "It's not a window but..." He glanced at the people on the screen and shuddered a little.

"Ah, hang on," said Alfred. He grabbed something from the table. It appeared to be a rod of some sort with a lot of buttons. Alfred pointed it at the box thing and pressed the biggest, red button. The image on the surface facing them disappeared. The only thing to suggest it was anything but a box was a small red light in the bottom left corner. "That's better. So we don't get distracted," he added, by way of explanation.

"Yes," Arthur agreed with a nod.

"Well, it's called a television."

"A tele...?" began Arthur before trailing off to think. He'd never heard of a television. But he _had_ heard of telegraphs and telephones. Those, he knew, transmitted messages and sound over long distances. Did this mean that the television transmitted images? Was that what this was? "But... how? How does it work?"

"Oh, you see, it works with radio waves. The im-"

"Radio? Waves?"

"Um... It's- Don't you know about them. I know radios weren't invented till the tail end of the Victorian time but I thought radio waves were discovered around 1850 or something. Maybe a bit later."

Concentrating, Arthur dredged up a memory of someone talking about the future of communication at some tedious party or other. "They are... for communication?"

"Yup. All forms of radiation form waves," explained Alfred. "They go through the air, undetectable for the most part. Radio waves are a type of radiation. They've got longer wavelengths- Actually, never mind about that. Anyways, there's a way of changing the form of the waves by changing their modulating and base input signals. That way, different messages can be sent. Television signals have a wider band 'cause everything's scanned quicker. And there's a separate one for the audio. When it-" He broke off when he finally noticed Arthur's expression.

The Englishman could feel his face set in a shocked expression. His eyes were wide and his lips were slightly parted as he tried to make sense of all the words. He had understood radiation. But after that, what with 'wavelengths' and 'modulating' and 'bands', he felt lost. Arthur had never been particularly scientifically minded. Natural sciences, perhaps, things associated with his garden. Unfortunately, physics had never particularly captured his attention. So he couldn't quite grasp what Alfred was saying.

"Do you believe in magic?" Alfred asked, suddenly.

"Excuse me?" asked Arthur, blinking.

"Let's just say that it happens by magic." Alfred grinned at him and took a sip from his mug.

Taking a sip from his own to calm himself once again, Arthur nodded. "Fine."

"Besides, if you understood what was happening, you could change the world when you get back to your own time." Alfred grimaced. "I'd like to stay alive, y'know."

"Even if I did, I do not see what use it is."

"Oh, Artie," sighed Alfred, a fond smile on his lips which was slowly becoming a grin.

"Arthur."

"Television is _amazing_! There are all sorts of shows on it. Talk shows and documentaries and the news and movies and _everything_!" Alfred was almost bouncing in his seat, his grin seemingly stuck.

"I see..." said Arthur, slowly, taking another sip.

"God, I gotta show you!" Alfred grabbed the special rod as Arthur flinched away from him.

"Wha-? You- You can't _say_ that!"

Alfred blinked and looked round at him. "Say what?"

"_You just took the Lord's name in vain_!" hissed Arthur, shifting away from him slightly.

"So what?"

After a few moments of them staring at each other, Arthur spoke up, rather quietly. "Does... Does the Church of England still exist?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so. Why?"

"Then... How can you-? You will be _punished_ if you say something like that in public! It is against the law!"

"It is?" asked Alfred. He frowned for a moment in obvious confusion before he let out a loud laugh. "Ah, no, dude, they totally stopped that, like, years ago! No-one but hardcore church-goers complain about saying things like that. And the cops ain't gonna stop you in the street if they overhear ya. Don't worry so much. You wanna see these shows or not?"

Shocked, Arthur hesitantly nodded. Religion wasn't taken seriously any more? What did people believe in now? He was too afraid to ask so he decided to drop the subject and return his attention to the television, taking another calming sip of tea.

"So, what sorta books did you like to read? Maybe I can find you a channel you'd like." He pressed the big red button on the stick and images appeared once again. Then the images began to flicker as Alfred pressed a big arrow button, numbers appearing at the top of the surface facing them.

"What is that?" asked Arthur, nodding to the stick thing as he cupped his hands around his tea.

"Huh? Oh, it's a remote. It's so you can change the channel and stuff without having to get up all the time." Alfred glanced at him and grimaced. "I don't think there's any point in telling you how it works..."

"No," agreed Arthur. "I was never so fond of science."

Alfred turned to him, stopping his constant pressing of the buttons on the 'remote'. A woman on the screen told people how she felt with her bloated stomach, gesturing with a small container and a spoon. Arthur tuned her out and listened to Alfred as he asked, "Why not?"

Shrugging, Arthur said, "It never held my interest."

"Okay. Well. Ah!" cried Alfred, suddenly. "D'ya like British humour?"

"I have been known to enjoy a good comedy, yes."

Alfred's eyes flickered to him as the American tapped in a number on the remote. "I betcha loved Oscar Wilde's stuff, huh?"

"Who?" asked Arthur, his brow furrowing further.

"Uh, never mind," said Alfred, quickly. He frowned as well and turned his attention back to the television. "You probably wouldn't like him, anyhow."

"Would I not?" Arthur threw a glare in Alfred's direction. "How exactly would you know?"

"Never mind."

Arthur bristled. "You are getting rather repetitive, Mr. Jones."

"Alfred," replied the man with a small smirk. "Here, watch this. It's called Mock the Week."

Reluctantly, Arthur nodded and turned his attention to the television. For a while, they watched in silence, Arthur sipping at his tea, Alfred sipping his coffee. However, a lot of the humour made references to things that had happened since Arthur had left his world behind. He understood very little. After a while, he sighed and finished his tea, setting it on the table.

"You okay?" Alfred piped up, looking concerned.

"I am fine," Arthur replied, dismissively. He returned his attention to the comedy show for a few seconds before speaking up again. "Are there 'shows' for children?"

Snorting, Alfred set his own mug on the table. "Dude, there are whole _channels_ for kids." With no idea what 'channels' were, Arthur merely nodded. "Why d'ya wanna know?"

"No reason," said Arthur, swiftly. Alfred may have been helping him and teaching him but he still did not want to tell the relative stranger too much about himself.

"C'mon! You can tell me. There's no-one else here. I'm not gonna tell anyone." Those blue eyes looked at him imploringly.

Arthur sighed. "Fine: I was wondering if this was a form of entertainment that could be directed towards children."

"Why?"

Another moment of hesitation. "Well, I was made an Esquire because I formed a toy company. I wonder if it is still going strong..."

"Hm, I can find out," said Alfred. "Was it called Hamleys by any chance?"

"It was called Britannia's Angels."

"Oh, cool name!" Alfred grinned at him and reached for his 'laptop' that he had set down on the table. It had thankfully been unscathed from Arthur's fall over it. Again, he tapped and swiped at the big square. Eventually, he tilted his head slightly. "Nope," he said, slowly. "Looks like it's just spitting out sites about Rule, Britannia and some sort of artists' renderings of a character or something."

"It?"

"Yeah, Google. Maybe we'll have more luck in the library or something. Anyways, you hungry?" Alfred asked as he closed the computer over and put it back on the table.

"A little, yes. Sorry to be an inconvenience," said Arthur, glancing away.

"Cool..." Alfred trailed off as he eyed Arthur's appearance. Now that he had calmed down, he was a little concerned about this level of scrutiny. He was no longer wearing his hat, cape or jacket so he would not strike as imposing a figure as he would have liked. His trousers had been dirtied in the alley and his hair was mucky. Arthur also felt rather sweaty so he probably looked horrible. "Hey, while you wait for food, you wanna go for a bath? Then we can eat, maybe I can show you an awesome movie and then we can sleep. We'll figure everything out tomorrow."

"I would much rather we decided what to do today," said Arthur, haughtily.

"Well, tough," said Alfred with a grin. "I'm hungry and I don't wanna think any more today. This is way more thinking than I do every day, y'know." He laughed at himself and Arthur was unsure if it was a joke or not.

"Hm," was all Arthur responded to that with. "In that case, we had best not let you get a headache from thinking. I would very much like to wash up. Which way is it to the bathroom?"

"Last door on the left," Alfred responded, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder.

Arthur nodded and stood, making his way around the sofa. At the door he paused and glanced over his shoulder. He supposed he should say thank you but Alfred was changing the 'channels' on the television again so he silently left.

Along the small hall he soon found the room he was looking for. It was covered in tiles with a porcelain bath and a shower head above it. An odd looking toilet was squashed into a corner. Beside it, a sink had a dripping tap which Arthur closed fully. There was a mirror above it, attached, it seemed, to cabinet doors.

Quickly, he located the soap and began to run the bath. He checked the door was closed and discovered a small bolt so, for the sake of modesty, he slid it across, locking himself in. Periodically, Arthur checked the temperature of the water, alternating between the hot and cold taps or opening them both at the same time as he saw fit. Briefly, he wondered how the bath was heated – was it still done by gas? He decided that he didn't really need to know and pushed the thought from his mind.

As he waited, he gazed at himself over the mirror. He looked absolutely awful. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, as though he hadn't slept in years. His hair was dishevelled and still dirty. Running a hand through it, he coughed as dust was swept from his locks.

When the bath was finally full, he began to undress, turning his thoughts to Peter. The boy was confined to the house instead of being sent away to some foreign land to be treated. Arthur was too scared of losing him, of not being there for him. And now here he was, lost from Peter's life. He hoped and prayed, his lips moving with barely a sound escaping, that he would return to his own time. If his brother was turned out onto the streets, if his treatment stopped, if people discovered his condition...

Banishing those thoughts for the moment, he carefully climbed in and settled, sighing at the relaxing caress of the water. For several long minutes he lay, his eyes closed, his breathing slowing. Arthur waited until he felt infinitely calmer than any time since he had arrived in 2013 before sitting up slightly and bringing the bar of soap to the water.

After he had washed his body, Arthur lathered the soap and proceeded to wash his hair, bemoaning the lack of black tea. He had always rather loved the smell of it in his hair which lingered for days. Perhaps he would ask Alfred for some the next time he had a bath.

If he was still in 2013, that was.

Finally, he decided to emerge from the water. Drops cascaded from him as he clambered over the porcelain edge, careful not to slip. Standing on the mat, he glanced around and grabbed a soft, pale blue towel which was hung over a metal rail affixed to the wall. It was long enough to conceal himself from view if he held it up. He used it to dry off as the water drained, leaving his hair to drip onto his shoulders. Then he turned and gave a lost look around the room.

Arthur had a problem.

His clothes were filthy and needed a wash before he could wear them again. There were no other clothes. What was he supposed to do? It would be quite unbecoming to go gallivanting around in just a towel. But what else _could_ he do?

With a reluctant sigh, Arthur wrapped the towel around his waist, unlocked the door and exited, creeping along the hall. The only room he knew about had its door open so he peered around the doorway. Alfred was still sitting on the couch, watching something that looked rather odd, as though the people on the screen were not real. He frowned at this as he and Alfred both watched a man sneak through the area he was in. Arthur wondered what he was doing for a moment before deciding that it was a little too cold to be standing around. So, making sure his body was mostly hidden from Alfred's view, he cleared his throat.

"Excuse me," he said as Alfred turned around. Behind him, the man on the television stopped moving: a large word appeared over the image. 'PAUSE'. "Excuse me, but I have no other clothes..."

"Oh, right!" cried Alfred, leaping up. Arthur twitched a little and retreated back a little. "Didn't think, sorry! I'll just get you some jeans and a shirt. Oh! I still have unopened boxers, if you want any."

"What are boxers?" Arthur asked in confusion.

"Um, underwear. Why, what'd you wear?"

"An undershirt and drawers," replied Arthur, trying not to be embarrassed by the turn in conversation.

"Ah," said Alfred, as he made his way to the door. "Well, I don't wear vests or anything, so you'll just have to make do."

He was close now: if he came any closer, Arthur would be seen. So Arthur tried to stop him and hide at the same time, causing an undignified squeak to sound from his mouth as he backed away. "I-I will wait in the bath-" he began as he backed away. However, he was not fast enough and Alfred's longer legs had closed the distance. He emerged from the room and turned towards Arthur, causing the man to freeze, almost as though he was a street urchin caught with his hand in a gentleman's purse.

Alfred froze as well, staring at him. He looked rather shocked. They continued to stare at each other for a second before Alfred's eyes suddenly flickered. It almost seemed that the American was tracking a droplet of water from Arthur's shoulder, down his chest, towards the towel which he now felt was inadequate to be covering him up. Arthur really didn't like the way Alfred was looking at him, gazing at his skin, so he used one arm to hug himself, his hand resting on the opposite shoulder, his arm hopefully covering himself a little. His other hand gripped the towel tighter.

"Uh," said Alfred, apparently trying to wrench his gaze away from Arthur's chest. "Well, um... Better get you them clothes, yeah? The food'll be here soon."

"Soon?" asked Arthur, weakly. Clearing his throat, he spoke a little louder. "You have servants?"

This question seemed to jolt Alfred from his daze and he laughed loudly, his eyes now meeting Arthur's again. "Nah, mate. I just ordered in."

"Ordered...? What exactly do you mean?"

"The food's gonna be delivered. Come on," he added, stepping around the partly-stricken Arthur. He had no real choice but to follow.

They entered the room opposite the bathroom. Inside was a large wardrobe, a comfortable-sized bed, a desk and more things stuck to the wall. A small bookcase had thick books, most with scientific names. There was also a chest of drawers nestled in a corner. Beside the bed, a small table with a drawer and cabinet was situated, a lamp sitting there. Another door perhaps led to a storage area.

"Here," said Alfred and Arthur returned his attention to Alfred in time to catch a shirt one-handed. "I bought that the first time I came to London." He grinned at Arthur who laid it on the bed with his free hand. The shirt had short sleeves, was white and had words written on it in red. 'I' and 'London' were there, surrounding a heart shape.

Turning back to Alfred in time to catch a pair of trousers made in a strange material, he raised an eyebrow. "Really? Do you have nothing else – with longer sleeves, perhaps?"

"Okay, okay," sighed Alfred. He pulled a shirt from his wardrobe. This one did, indeed, have long sleeves. It was white with little blue stripes running along it. Arthur graciously accepted this with his thanks before Alfred turned his attention to the chest of drawers. He rummaged through the top drawer, extracted something, then turned around with a pair of shorts. They were far shorter than Arthur's drawers but he accepted them, too. "Hm," said Alfred, as he handed them over. "They may be a bit big on ya."

"I will make do, thank you very much," insisted Arthur. "May I ask you to leave so that I can dress?"

"Sure," replied Alfred. "Bring the towel t'me when you're finished, along with your own clothes, and I'll put them all in for a wash."

Arthur had no idea what it would be put in but he nodded. He waited for Alfred to leave and shut the door before gratefully pulling on the 'boxers'. They were a bit large, barely touching his hips. He shrugged, though, and pulled on the rest of the clothes.

* * *

When he eventually returned to where Alfred was sitting he noticed, this time, that Alfred was holding a strange device in his hand. It was black, a curved shape and had a lot of buttons. There was also a small stick which Alfred was moving around. As he studied him, he noted that, when Alfred pushed the stick to the left, the person on the television turned left.

"How are you doing that?" he asked, rather alarmed.

With a gasp and a jolt, Alfred hit a button and the large 'PAUSE' returned, freezing the man in his tracks. "Geez, Artie! You gave me a heart attack! You finished?" Arthur nodded, small drops of water flying from his drying hair. Alfred flinched as they hit his outstretched hand. "Eh, your hair is still wet."

"Yes," replied Arthur, striding around the couch and sitting in his previous spot. "It will be a long while before it is properly dry.

Alfred tilted his head. "Your hair looks _soaked_," he emphasised. "Didja not dry it or something?"

"What do you mean?" asked Arthur.

The American's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, what do I mean? Did you dry it or not?"

"I have no idea what you-" began Arthur but, suddenly, Alfred was running a hand through his hair.

"You didn't dry it!" he cried. With that, he grabbed the damp towel from Arthur's hands and dropped it onto the gentleman's head.

"Hey!" cried Arthur, his crisp tones slipping. "What th'hell-?" He broke off, realising how he sounded. "What are you doing?!" he exclaimed, instead, hoping Alfred hadn't caught his slip.

The towel was moved, rubbing against Arthur's head. "I'm drying your hair, silly," explained Alfred's muffled voice.

"With the towel?"

"What else?"

Arthur fell silent and let Alfred continue. It felt rather pleasant having someone do this for him. He was almost thrown back in time to the occasions when his mother had done something like this. She would smile as he mischievously splashed water at her. Her smile...

Quite suddenly, surprising himself as well as Alfred, he grabbed Alfred's wrists, stopping him. "That is quite enough of that," he told him as he pulled the towel away.

"But-" Alfred was interrupted by a strange buzzing noise which stopped as abruptly as it started. Arthur's hand flew to his chest as he tried to calm his thundering heartbeat, tried to catch his breath from the fright. "Food's here!" was Alfred's response as he leapt from the couch, grabbed the dirty clothes and towel and bounded from the room. Arthur listened as the man spoke to someone, telling them to "come on up!" There was another silence, punctuated by humming noises emanating from around the television. Then there was a knock at the door, it was opened and Arthur listened absently to the chaos.

Finally, the door closed again and Alfred reappeared. He was carrying two cardboard boxes, rather flat, an amazing smell wafting from them, making Arthur's mouth water. "What is that?" he asked.

"Pizza!" proclaimed Alfred, with a flourish, setting the boxes on the table and opening the top-most one. "I just got cheese, 'cause I don't know what you like and stuff."

"I see..." said Arthur, slowly, staring. Inside the box was a large, round thing. It seemed to be cut into triangles and was covered in what appeared to be a sauce and some melted cheese. "What exactly is it?" he added.

"It's..." Alfred bit his lip, obviously trying to work out what to tell him. "Well, it's a sort of... bread. Flat. With tomato sauce and cheese. Then it's baked and it becomes _awesome_!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "I see," he repeated. "And how exactly are we supposed to eat it? We have no cutlery."

"Dude, don't sweat it. You eat it like this." And, with that, Alfred reached forward, grabbed a triangular piece and pulled it from the box. A string of cheese held it together with the rest before it broke. Then he held it above his head, caught the dangling cheese and practically sucked it into his mouth before taking a bite of the actual bread. With a moan of pleasure, he chewed quickly before turning and grinning at Arthur. "Just try it."

For a moment, Arthur could only stare in shock. The manners of the man were appalling. He didn't know what to do. "The world has really gone to pieces," he sighed and, reluctantly, took his own piece.

Hesitantly, he lifted it to his lips and took a tentative bite. The overpowering taste of warm cheese and tomato overthrew his senses and he blinked in surprise. It was actually tastier than he thought. Although, he rather thought he preferred the food he had been used to in his own time.

"Well?" asked Alfred.

Arthur swallowed. "It _is_ rather good."

"Yay!" cried Alfred. "Now, I gotta get us a movie. Then we can eat while we watch. Ah! How about some Disney? That'd be awe- Wait! You haven't seen _any_ Disney. Dude, I gotta start you off with Snow White!"

"What-?" Arthur began but Alfred had already leapt from his place and bounced over to the bookcase. Quickly, he devoured his piece of pizza and grabbed a strange not-book from the shelf. Then he wandered over to the television and fiddled around with something underneath it. Curious, Arthur said to him, "What are you doing? What are those?"

"It's a DVD," explained Alfred as he returned to the couch and picked up the strange thing he had been holding earlier. "I put it in the XBox. This is its controller. And Snow White is a fairy tale which was animated by Disney in, like, the 30s or something."

DVD, XBox, Disney – there were too many things for Arthur to ask about so he took another bite of his pizza and pretended to understand.

* * *

_**Yeah, I stopped it there cause I wasn't sure which one Arthur would ask about first. So, yeah... I chickened out. But I'll probably pick up during the movie for a lovely explanation on animated films and how it works on a TV. Which was about the hardest thing to try an explain because I know how it works, basically, but I can't seem to explain it.  
**_

_**Also, I realise that, as I went along, I actually put my story notes in amongst my history notes. So here are my three pages of notes for this chapter (Also, the font has changed and I have no idea how that happened or how to change it to meld in better.:**_

_**In 1890, there were only 44 states after July of that year. I decided that Arthur was wandering around in the middle of September so had heard of the addition of Idaho and Wyoming. However, he would have no knowledge of Utah, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Arizona, Alaska and Hawaii.**_

_**In regards to the flag, the most recent act was the Act of April 4, 1818 - provided for 13 stripes and one star for each state, to be added to the flag on the 4th of July following the admission of each new state, signed by President Monroe. However, where I found this didn't really say more about that but, at that time, there were only 20 states so I imagine it would have been a circle. I suppose I could have found out but I doubt Arthur looked too closely. (And I'm lazy and wanted to get on with writing.) But, I suppose, at the time Arthur was plucked from, it wouldn't have been as structurally ordered as it has become since then.**_

_**There had been caricatures and cartoons in newspapers since 1827(ish) (or before – I'm not so sure) so Arthur knows about them but they're just satire in his time, a thing to make a political point. So Superman and Batman and Captain America probably look childish and make no sense as they don't say anything about the politics of the time.**_

_**Call of Duty: Ghosts was released in 2013, so Al's up to date with his gaming collection. I have never looked at the back of this game so I have no idea if the words I picked out actually exist on the case.  
**_

_**Tea from China was imported to England first and so they would have drunk green tea more until tea began being grown in India, Sri Lanka and Java. Between 1834 and 1842, there was no tea from China cause of their war. (The Opium War? This thing I'm using called it the Britain-China war.) Tea trade began in India in 1838 so there would be black tea being drunk as well as green and there were the clipper ships which meant tea got to England faster and became cheaper for the working classes to afford. Blended teas began in the 1870s so the English Breakfast Blend (which I had Arthur refer to as Twinings' Breakfast) would exist. Basically! With Arthur's background and everything, he would probably have drunk an awful lot of Chinese and Japanese-style tea. He would also have drank black tea and, more recently, he would have begun to discover the different blends available.**_

_**I decided to double check whether Arthur would know about teabags and, what do you know? An American called Thomas Sullivan accidentally invented them. See, the best way to make tea is to have it removed from the cup after brewing so infusers were used. But Sullivan's customers who were sent little bags of tea thought that they were meant to be dunked in before being removed inside the bag. He made the bags better and in the 1920s they became commercialised. However... the UK decided it didn't like this change and was wary of it. Then the World Wars came along and slowed down the process of it being introduced to the country. So we never got teabags till 1953 when Tetley came along and became a big tea company. We used to drink it in my house all the time when we were younger (and collected their wee house ornaments which we still have). Now we drink Scottish Blend, in case you're curious. (I thought I'd tell you all about this because, I mean, 1953?! Sheesh...)**_

_**The radiator was, like, totally invented by a Polish-born Russian businessman called Franz San Galli between 1855 and 1857. The common designs were made by, huh, Americans again. A coupla guys called Joseph Nason and Robert Briggs in 1863. The 'Bundy Loop' was invented in 1872 by Nelson H Bundy. What a name. Anyways, I suppose that only the rich of the rich would be able to afford this stuff so it wouldn't be that common. I decided that Artie was still kitting out his new house when the radiators were making their way into London. Or maybe they were already widespread. Anyways, the radiators would be made of cast iron in those days but Arthur's not exactly an expert on metals. He's also not noticed the fact that there's no valves to let out the steam which they were kitted out with. Cause live steam is a harsh mistress and if you don't watch out, Tak will take you. (Reference to a book I just finished reading, hush now.)**_

_**Okay, so... Electricity. Joseph Swan exhibited the first incandescent carbon filament lamp in 1878. Then, in 1881, the Swan Electric Light Company was formed. This was then merged with the Edison Electric Light Company to become the Edison & Swan Electric Light Company in 1883. The first public electricity generator was installed in Goldaming, Surrey in 1881, too. Then, in 1882 the Electric Light Act was passed and the general public was provided with electricity for their lights. However, general electricity wasn't provided to the public in Britain for anything other than lights till 1926 so Artie missed out. So he won't be surprised about the lighting situation but he won't understand any of the other appliances, basically.**_

_**The TV show that Arthur manages to turn on is The Jeremy Kyle show. I looked up what would have been being shown around the date I wanted it. Well, I wanted this to be the week before universities start. I know they all start at different times but I went with the end of September. Therefore, this episode was shown on the 19th of September, 2013. And I actually looked it up cause I wasn't sure what they should be speaking about. Apparently, the part of the episode I took it from was about a step-dad cheating on someone's mother because he only married her for her money. … I do so wonder about the world at times.**_

_**Apparently, in 1748, Britain banned coffee and its merchandise. Found this out while I was wondering if the mug Alfred handed Arthur would have been odd, recognised, a surprise or normal. Also, on my travels of the Internet (which, as I type, I still can't find out whether coffee mugs were allowed in the 1800s at all), I found a website: .uk. This amuses me oh so much. I never did find anything telling me more about that ban. Which is why Arthur doesn't bat an eyelid at the thing, except for the designs on them.**_

_**Okay, so... Obviously televisions weren't around till the 1950s. However! Arthur knows the 'tele' part, cause, well... Telegraphy and also telephones were around by then. Let's see here... First telegram was sent in 1833 and the first line in the UK was installed in 1839 from Paddington, London to West Drayton (never heard of it). It was a commercial line, though, which is probably a good idea because you needed to be trained in using the thing. You can't go round everyone teaching them how to use things. So, anyways, Morse did it in America – 40 miles long it was. Then the telephone was invented to use sound instead of moving little bits of metal to make dents in paper by two people. Alexander Graham Bell patented it first, though, so he gets all the credit. In 1876, he showed it to Queen Victoria who had it installed from Osbourne House on the Isle of Wight to Buckingham Palace, making the first overseas call. London Central exchange was formed in 1883. And, lo and behold! The telephone and telegraph were both being used when Arthur went and disappeared. 'Tele', by the way, means far off or away and is generally used to mean something being transmitted over a large distance. So: television = images transmitted over a large distance = Arthur being able to understand what's going on from the word.**_

_**In the 1860s, a Scottish physicist called James Clerk Maxwell predicted the existence of radio waves. In 1886, Heinrich Rudolph Hertz actually demonstrated it. However, it wasn't until 1895 that the first radio signal was sent and received. Therefore, radios did not exist in Arthur's time. And he's also not a scientifically minded person. He may have heard something about radio waves in passing but has certainly forgotten since then. And he has no idea how they work.**_

_**As far as I can tell, blasphemy was a big thing back then. People could go to trial for saying things like "For God's sake", etc. And that is why Artie reacts so strongly to Alfred saying "God" so flippantly. Though, really, he has no reason for that - which is why he doesn't react more strongly than he did. **_

_**Although Oscar Wilde was around in Arthur's day, he would probably only have been known for his first two plays – tragedies which were a complete flop. Then he did his comedies the year after Artie disappeared and he was a rousing success. Then that whole homosexual controversy. (Well, it was a controversy at the time. Poor guy.) (By the way, Alfred only knows about Oscar Wilde because he had to study The Importance of Being Earnest – which is the only one I actually know the story of so that's why it's that one – and his cousin who told him he was homosexual and prompted little Al to look him up more. For amusement. Or perhaps because of something else.)**_

_**Hamleys started out as Noah's Ark in 1760 opened by William Hamley. It was passed through the generations and moved a few times. Its name changed from Noah's Ark to Joy Emporium in 1837 to, finally, Hamleys. My source (the Hamleys website) says that a new branch was opened on Regent Street in 1881 but when the name was changed isn't stated. However, I think it was changed to that name then. Or, at least, that branch was called that. From what I can gather, anyway, which is why Arthur knows that shop all too well...**_

_**Let's talk about toilets. In 1858, the stinking Thames was so bad that Parliament was stopped. So they started building sewers and passing laws about chucking your... waste into the street. So pipes and plumbing came along. In 1775, someone invented what we would consider the modern toilet (I've lost the page with his name but he ain't important. Well, he is but it doesn't really matter to this story.) In the 1870s, the wall mounted cistern was popular by Thomas Twyford. Then, in 1885, he made the first china and trap-less toilet. The richer society had bathrooms indoors so Arthur isn't surprised by that. Toilet paper was invented or introduced to Great Britain in 1880 so that's not a surprise either. Free standing showers were invented around the time indoor plumbing came along so he knows about them, too. So, basically, my plan to have him surprised by the toilet completely backfired. Oh, well. **_

_**I'm not sure about whether English people used all these methods of washing their hair or if it was just the Americans or what (I keep finding articles concentrated on what happened in America. It's a right pain.) Anyway, I found this article which said they used a number of things: soap, vinegar, black tea, rosemary, egg yolks, rum. Another site mentioned bicarbonate of soda. I decided Arthur would like to wash with black tea. I mean, his hair is often described as being darker than Alfred's and, apparently, black tea makes light blonde hair darken temporarily so I thought this would be as good an explanation as any. They also didn't dry their hair, leaving it up to the air to do that. I realised after I had read this over that, perhaps, I had misinterpreted this particular tidbit of information. They probably dried off their hair a little with a towel before letting the rest of it dry off in the air. However, when I tried to think of a way to take it out but leave in the hair drying and memory thing... I just decided not to bother. Although, I did think that, perhaps, Arthur's hair would be a mess when he dries it. So he probably wouldn't want to rub at it with a towel and had developed a habit of just letting it dry. This kind of fits in with other bits and pieces I have of his background, so that excuse is totally valid. Basically: I'm an idiot - but enjoy this note.  
**_

_**Apparently, nudity was a big no-no in Victorian times. Men and women would get undressed and into their nightclothes in separate rooms. **_

_**Men in Victorian times wore undershirts and drawers. However, in the winter, they'd wear union suits. A one-piece thing with a hole in the bottom that came in white and red – and only white and red. Thankfully, in this chapter, it's not winter, so Arthur's not going to have Alfred laugh at him. Like I am doing as I type out this note. However! Boxers were not called boxers till later, as far as I can tell, hence the confusion. And Long-Johns were an American thing, so.**_

_**I tried to find out when, exactly, pizzas were introduced to England but most sites concentrated on when it was first made instead. As far as I can tell, after WWII, Americans going home wanted pizza so invented their own stuff. I think, after that, it spread to Britain, probably in the 60s. I suppose Arthur could know about them if he had ever travelled to Italy. But he never did in the 1800s so he doesn't know about it, I've decided.**_

_**This is a lot of notes. If you have any questions or you think I should change something, let me know.  
**_


End file.
